


Some Dumb Jock

by Missouri_Mule



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Trivial Pursuit (TM)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28229769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missouri_Mule/pseuds/Missouri_Mule
Summary: NYC, summer of 2018.Alan’s new co-worker Byron is finally joining the gang for trivia night.  The only problem is that he’s bringing some friend who’s a professional athlete.Let’s hope the big oaf doesn’t make a fool of himself.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 138





	Some Dumb Jock

Alan opened the door to his studio apartment to find his boss standing there.

“Hi, Flannery.”

“Thank you so much for hosting this,” she sighed, handing him a large tray and a smaller plate covered with cling wrap. “I brought a charcuterie plate and some dessert for later.”

“I finally get Byron to come out with us,” she continued, “and he has some old friend in town. Who, it seems, has a total phobia about paparazzi and looking stupid in public. So, no bars.”

“Not a problem,” Alan responded. “We can make do here. I’m just interested in getting to know Byron better. He’s been our co-worker for a couple months now, and he’s so reserved.” He resumed after pausing a moment. “Know anything about the friend?”

“Pro athlete” was Flannery’s response. “Not baseball, I think.”

There was a knock on the door, and Alan let Cate and Beckett in. Cate was carrying a couple of bottles of wine, and Beckett had a Trivial Pursuit box, still in its original wrapping.

“So, can you see the end of the world from here?” Beckett asked. Alan rolled his eyes. Manhattanites acted like the outer boroughs were some exotic other planet, and Beckett in particular could be a pompous snot. For God’s sake, Alan occasionally walked into Manhattan from his apartment.

Beckett followed up with “No meathead yet?” Cate let out a quiet amused laugh.

“No,” Flannery said, “and be nice.”

Alan went into his kitchenette to set out the food next to the plates and wine glasses, when another knock on his door followed. “I’ll get it,” Flannery volunteered.

Alan couldn’t see Flannery’s face, but he noticed a change in her demeanor when the door opened.

“Come in,” she said. Byron stepped through the door, followed by his friend, and Alan understood Flannery’s reaction. He didn’t have the best sense of when a guy was attractive, but he could guess that tall, muscular, and blue-eyed were a good start.

“You must be Jack,” Flannery said, gesturing for a handshake. The handshake lingered a bit longer than it should have.

“Euh, yes.”

“Well, I’m Flannery, and this is Beckett and Cate, and that’s Alan in the kitchen.”

“Can I get either of you some wine?” Alan asked, stepping up his hosting duties.

Byron’s “Sounds great” was followed by Jack’s “Water for me, please”. Of course, Alan thought, this guy looks like a total my-body-is-my-temple kind of guy.

“There’s also food here. Make yourself a plate.” Then he added, “I hope there’s something here, Jack, that’s on your diet.”

Jack responded, “This looks great. Lots of things with protein.”

After everyone filled their plates, Flannery led them to the living room, where Alan’s sofa bed was currently converted to a couch. He had set up a card table and three folding chairs.

By the time, Alan made it into the living room, Jack was seated on the couch between Flannery and Cate, with Byron and Beckett in folding chairs. Everyone had managed to squeeze their plates and drinks precariously on the card table with the game board in the center.

Sitting made Jack look even taller and Alan wondered if he were sitting on cushions, but then lost the thought when he heard Jack speak.

“I’m a little nervous about this,” Jack said. “I’m not normally allowed to play board games.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Beckett assured him. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem meeting our expectations.”

After a second, Alan realized that had been intended as a put-down. Byron apparently picked up on that, too, because Alan saw him try to suppress a facial expression. It could have been a frown, but Alan’s first instinct was that Byron was suppressing a smile.

“Why don’t you roll first?” Beckett suggested to Jack, as he set up the board.

Everyone knew that Beckett was probably going to win. He was almost always the MVP at team trivia nights. Alan just hoped he didn’t make Jack look too dumb.

Jack picked up the die, rolled a four, and moved his game piece to an orange space. Alan noticed that Jack chose Sports and Leisure. Of course.

Beckett took out a card. “Here’s an easy one. ‘In golf, what nickname is given to a play on a hole that is two strokes over par?’ “

Easy, thought Alan, only if you’ve ever played golf. Not everyone has had that privileged a background.

But Jack didn’t seem to be worried. “Double bogey,” he answered as a picked up the die and rolled again.

Given a choice between History and Science, Jack chose history.

Beckett picked up another card. “What form of art resulted from the early 19th-century work of Nicéphore Niépce and Louis Daguerre?”

“Daguerre? Euh, photography?”

“Yes,” Beckett said with disdain, obviously expecting Jack to flub the question.

“Photography is kind of a hobby of mine. I’ve come across the word ‘daguerreotype’ before, so I made a guess.”

“What do you photograph?” Flannery asked, leaning slightly towards him.

“This and that. . .” Jack began, but Byron interrupted him with “Wrought iron and geese.” He smiled at Jack fondly.

Jack smiled back and picked up the die again. A roll of three put him on the wedge space for Science.

Beckett picked up the next card. “Seriously? This is for a wedge? ‘What is the young offspring of a gander called?’ “ Everyone laughed, since Byron had mentioned geese not ten seconds earlier.

“A gosling,” Jack answered, inserting the first of six wedges into his game piece.

“Sure,” Byron followed up, “but does he know who Ryan Gosling is?” That prompted smiles. When Jack responded, completely serious, “Euh. . .is that, like, a cartoon character?”, every burst out laughing.

“No, Jack, it’s an actor,” Byron explained, then addressed everyone else. “Jack has some gaps in his pop culture knowledge.”

“It’s still your turn,” Beckett prompted Jack, who picked up the die again.

Back to History. “What theologian, who founded the earliest Baptist congregation in the U.S., was expelled by the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1636?”

“Ah, that was Roger Williams.” Beckett looked surprised, but Jack continued, “There are many museums dedicated to him in Providence.” After a silence followed, Jack added, “I play for the Providence Falconers.”

“What sport is that?” Flannery asked.

When Jack said “Hockey”, Beckett expressed surprise that Jack still had all his teeth.

“It’s not like that” was Byron’s contribution. Then he paused. “Well, maybe it is, a little.”

Jack’s next roll put him on the pie wedge for Entertainment.

“Which artist’s self-titled debut album in 2006 included a Top 40 hit named after country singer Tim McGraw?”

Jack picked up the die and handed it to Cate on his left, as he shrugged and quietly said “Taylor Swift”.

“Yes,” Beckett said flatly.

Jack looked stunned. Next to Alan, Byron suddenly burst out laughing. Alan had never heard Byron laugh before.

“Now that I think about it,” Byron explained, “I remember having a conversation once about how Jack’s response was always ‘Taylor Swift’ when he didn’t know who sang something. I forgot all about that.”

Cate handed the die back to Jack, who was conscientiously putting his second pie wedge in. Meanwhile, Beckett handed the card box to Byron. “Why doesn’t someone else ask questions for a while?”

Byron pulled out the next card. “What native American sport, observed and named by a Jesuit missionary in 1637, had its rules codified in 1860 by William George Beers?” He flipped the card over to see the answer and grimaced.

“Judging by Shitty’s expression, I’m guessing ‘lacrosse’. He calls lacrosse a den of toxic masculinity and heteronormativity.”

“Shitty?” Cate asked.

“It was a school nickname,” Byron explains. “My initials are B.S. Knight.”

“How charming” was Beckett’s response. He means ‘vulgar’, Alan thought, not disagreeing, but something else clicked in his head.

“Are you the ‘Shitty’ that went to Andover with Thad Harwood?”

“Yes.” That was the full response. Byron acted like he didn’t want to be reminded of Thad. Alan thought about it for a second and decided that he didn’t want to be particularly reminded of Thad either. Thad bore certain resemblances to Beckett.

“It’s still your turn,” Beckett said to Jack, “but maybe we shouldn’t have Byron read the questions, if you can guess the answers just from his facial expressions.” So, it was Alan’s turn to reach into the box and pull out the next card.

“What American author’s works include ‘Song of Solomon’ and ‘Beloved’?”

“Toni Morrison. Shitty made me read ‘Song of Solomon’ one summer.”

“It was good for you, brah.” Brah? Alan wondered at their relationship for a moment. Something had been nagging at the back of his brain, but he had not been able to put his finger on it. But now he got it. Obviously, Byron had a crush on his straight jock friend. Poor guy.

Meanwhile, Jack had moved his game piece to the wedge space for History.

“In 1957, what Arkansas governor ordered state troops to prevent Little Rock High School from being integrated?”

“Orval Faubus. I learned that from watching ‘Eyes on the Prize’.”

“How ‘woke’ of you” was Beckett’s comment.

“My mother suggested I watch it to keep myself busy in the weeks after my overdose.”

“Overdose?” Flannery asked. 

“When I was 18, I overdosed on anti-anxiety meds. They found me unconscious on the bathroom floor.” The room became somber, as Flannery rested her hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Still my turn?” he asked, ignoring the dynamic in the room. “Six. Science.”

Alan read. “What animals are associated with the condition myotonia congenita?”

“Fainting goats.”

“No story?” Beckett asked after a pregnant pause. His face was almost a sneer.

“Actually,” Byron cut in, “it’s a funny one. . .”, and then Jack said, “Not funny to me.” The awkward silence continued.

Jack picked up the dice and rolled a four. “Our first ‘roll again’,“ Cate contributed, quietly.

A six put Jack on another Science space.

“ ‘The word’. . .” Alan paused. “I’m not sure how to pronounce this. It’s P-L-U-O-T.”

“Plew-ott,” Jack said, “it’s a cross between a plum and an apricot.”

Alan turned the card over. “Correct.”

“I had a PB&J once before a game with pluot jam. That game, I got hit in the chin with a puck and needed stitches. The stuff is bad luck. I haven’t touched anything pluot since.”

Alan groaned inwardly. Jack had started to impress them all, and now he came out with this stupid hockey mumbo-jumbo. Beckett and Cate were rolling their eyes at each other and acting generally insufferable, but Alan couldn’t blame them.

“Jack, brah, you sounded like such a hockey robot there.”

“Well, you know me, Shits,” and proceeded to make some robotic noises. Alan burst out laughing, and everyone else seemed to follow. Jack had been so serious all night. Alan had never expected him to pull out a “beep boop”. Suddenly, the mood was lighter.

Jack’s next roll made him eligible for his fourth wedge, this time for Geography.

“Why don’t you ask some questions for a while?” Alan suggested, handing the box to Flannery.

“All right. ‘In what city would one find the Plains of Abraham, site of a 1759 battle in which the commanding officers on both sides were mortally wounded?’ “

“Quebec City.” Pause. “When I was a teenager, I used to play for a team in Rimouski. One time, when my papa was driving me up there, we stopped in Quebec, and he took me to Battlefields Park. It was interesting.”

Alan was beginning to wonder if EVERY question in this game revolved around Jack Zimmermann, when Cate asked, “Do you speak French?”

“Ouais. C’est ma langue maternelle.” At this, Alan noticed that Beckett looked ready to gag.

After putting his wedge in, Jack picked up the die. He landed on History next.

“A police raid on what New York City bar on June 28, 1969, is considered the spark of the modern gay rights movement?”

“The Stonewall Inn.” Jack smiled, knowing they expected a story. “After my fiancee and I helped Shitty move in with Lardo, the two of us visited the site there on Christopher Street.”

“Lardo?” Cate asked, but Flannery got up to head to the kitchen. Alan suspected she didn’t like hearing about Jack’s ‘fiancee’.

“My girlfriend,” Byron explained, “Larissa. She’s an artist. She got a commission to paint the lobby of one of the local hotels. That’s how I ended up in New York.”

So Shitty isn’t gay, Alan thought, then realized what he’d done. ‘Byron’, he told himself, don’t start calling him ‘Shitty’.

Meanwhile, Flannery came out with a full glass of wine for herself and a plate of cookies for everyone else.

“Ooh!” Cate exclaimed. “You made your butterscotch chip cookies.” She turned to Jack. “These are probably the best cookies you’ll ever have. She makes her own butterscotch from scratch.”

“I don’t know about being the greatest,” Byron contradicted. “Jack’s fiancee’s baked goods are the best I’ve ever had.” He took a bite and groaned. “But these are a pretty close second.”

Flannery seemed slightly put out by Byron’s ‘close second’ comment. She handed the card box across Jack. “Cate, why don’t you read for a while?”

Jack’s next roll put him on the wedge space for Arts & Literature.

“A 1998 Pulitzer Prize for nonfiction was awarded to what book by Jared Diamond?”

“Guns, Germs, and Steel. That’s my favorite book.”

As Jack placed the fifth wedge in his game piece, Beckett asked with exasperation, “Your favorite book?”

“Yes, I was a history major in college, and that was one of our assigned readings.”

“And what school might you have gone to?”

“Samwell. It’s in Massachusetts. That’s where Shitty and I met. We were on the hockey team together.”

Alan had to ask. “You played hockey?”

“Yep,” Byron replied. “Third string walk-on.”

Alan realized he was getting his wish to learn more about Byron, except that everything he learned seemed to revolved around Jack. He also realized that Jack only needed one more wedge to complete his set, and the missing category was Sports. Was Jack actually going to run the board?

Jack rolled a four, and he decided to head through the center to get to his last wedge space.

“In what town, once known for its music scene, would you find the music venue known as the Georgia Theatre?”

“Athens.” Beat. “My fiancee grew up 30 miles from there, and we considered the Georgia Theatre as a wedding venue, but we decided we couldn’t manage enough security there.”

“Brah, I didn’t know you were considering Georgia. I just assumed your parents would offer up their place in Montreal. But Georgia sounds swawesome.”

Alan paused. A trivia question about Jack’s potential wedding venue? ‘Swawesome’? He had just told himself that everything tonight revolved around Jack, but this was too much. He would suspect some elaborate practical joke, except that he knew himself that the ‘Shitty’ part was genuine.

Jack’s next roll put him on History. Cate picked up the next card.

“Family Circle magazine was originally created for what supermarket chain, a chain which opened in 1916 and is credited as being the first self-service grocery store?”

“I’ve read this,” Jack said. Of course you have, Alan thought. “It’s either A&P or Piggly Wiggly. I’ll go with Piggly Wiggly.”

Cate nodded, but everyone was looking at Jack expectantly.

“My fiance did his thesis on mid-century baking patterns”—he ignored a snort from Beckett—“and Family Circle was one of the sources he cited.”

‘His thesis’? Alan thought. ‘His’? Apparently, Alan was 0-for-2 on sexual orientations tonight.

“Mid-century baking patterns sound very interesting,” Cate said, leaning towards him slightly. Alan thought that maybe she had a thing for gay men. If Beckett hadn’t been frowning before, he certainly would be now.

“Why don’t I read some questions for a while?” Beckett declared, snatching the box from Cate.

Jack’s roll put him on the final wedge space.

“In what sport might a person encounter a salchow, lutz, or axel?”

“Figure skating.” A sweet smile crossed Jack’s lips. “My fiance was a competitive figure skater until he was 14. I’ve seen some of his videos.”

Alan was startled by a sudden movement on his left.

“Oh, my God!” Flannery yelled. “You’re THAT Jack. I’m so stupid. I should have put it together already. I love your fiance’s videos.” She hesitated for a moment. “Eric, right? He’s the one I got my cookie recipe from.”

So, not a practical joke, Alan thought. Flannery took her baking too seriously to joke about.

Flannery turned her attention on Byron. “And you said my cookies were nearly as good as his.” She sighed contentedly. “Bless you. I didn’t realize what a compliment that was.”

“Um, uh. . .no problem,” Byron said. Then he lowered his voice, even though everyone in the small room could still hear, “Just between you and me, Jack is probably thrilled that you recognized him only because you’re a fan of Eric’s.”

Jack beamed.

Several turns followed as Jack tried to land exactly in the center. He answered questions about Stalingrad (with comments about World War II documentaries and possibly potatoes), Settlers of Catan (the reason Jack was banned from board games), and blanching (which apparently is done in the making of preserves).

Finally, Jack landed in the center, and Beckett chose Entertainment as the question category. An evil smile crossed his face as he asked a question about an obscure 1987 acting awards nomination.

“Oh, that was Alicia Zimmermann,” Jack said.

Beckett’s face turned red, as he turned to Byron and said, in a strained monotone, “I thought you said he doesn’t know anything about pop culture.”

“He doesn’t,” Byron replied, smiling, “but Alicia Zimmermann is his mother.”

“His mother? His MOTHER?” Beckett stood up and, with a sweep of his hand, knocked the board and all the game pieces off the table onto the floor. He paused for a moment and then stomped out the door. Cate stood up, said some hasty goodbyes, and rushed after him.

“And that’s why Jack isn’t allowed to play board games,” Byron said to nobody in particular, as Jack started to pick up the game pieces and put them in the box. Then Byron turned to Alan.

“Thanks for hosting this, Aloysius, m’dude. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much.”

“Sure thing, By-- er, Sh-- um, B.S.? This was a night I’ll certainly never forget.”

Sure, Alan thought, Beckett was a smart and diligent co-worker, but Alan had really enjoyed seeing him taken down a peg.

B.S. and Jack headed out the door. After a second, Flannery went after them. “Jack! If I give you my address, can I get Eric to autograph something for me?!!”

Alan closed the door behind them.

As he put things away, he found Beckett’s credit card receipt for a store called ‘Johnson’s Narrative Comics and Games’. 

‘Johnson’s Narrative’? Alan wondered. Who would name a store that? He sighed. Gamers were weird.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, I had to include a reference to Johnson, my favorite deus ex machina.


End file.
